Stargazing
by DizzyBaby
Summary: Written for a prompt that wanted Sherlock and John to go stargazing.


**Written for a Sherlock goes stargazing prompt over on SherlockBBC_fic! Sherlock/John slash. I apologise for any astronomy bits I got wrong, I used my own knowledge and a little help from Google! This show is seriously taking over my life! Anywho, enjoy and review!**

"Sherlock, where are we going?" John asked wearily, using the feeble amount of light from his phone to guide his way through the thick, damp grass he was stumbling through. It was 2 in the morning and they were climbing some hill in the middle of nowhere. John had long since lost the feeling in his fingers and toes and his jacket was doing nothing to protect him from the bitter night wind beating his face. He couldn't see a thing beyond the small glimmer of phone light and London was just a pinprick of orange light on the horizon.

"Sherlock?" He called out again, pausing for a moment just to listen. He could only hear the whistle of the wind and the swish of the grass. John started to think that maybe he was alone, that Sherlock had abandoned him. But then there was a steady grip on his arm and a hand resting on the small of his back. John nearly jumped out of his skin but then a pair of lips brushed his ear and he was overwhelmed by the scent of chemicals and violin bow rosin, the scent that could only belong to Sherlock Holmes.

He murmured softly in John's ear, "This way. Nearly there now, John."

"Nearly where?" He asked impatiently and was greeted with no reply but the grip on his arm tightened. "Sherlock, nearly _where_? If this is another one of your experiments…"

"Shut up or you'll ruin the surprise," Sherlock snapped back. John fell silent at this. A surprise? Well, whatever Sherlock thought would be a surprise couldn't bode well for John. He had most likely found some dead deer with some kind of abnormality that was significant for scientific discovery. John huffed and allowed Sherlock to lead him further up the hill as he got lost in his thoughts of being in his warm bed with a cup of tea…

"John?" Sherlock's voice pulled him back to reality. He blinked several times before something in his mind registered that Sherlock's voice almost sounded…nervous. Then his eyes fell on the scene in front of him. A tartan blanket had been spread on the ground, held down in each corner by a tea light candle. John didn't understand until Sherlock whispered, "Look up."

He did and the sight made him gasp. Above their heads were a million twinkling stars, shinning brighter than John had ever seen them before. There were so many that they almost obliterated the black spaces in between. John knew he his mouth had fallen open and that he must look like a gormless fish but he was so dazzled by the sight. He heard Sherlock chuckle beside him and he finally tore his eyes away.

"Wha?" Was about as coherent as he could manage.

"As I said before, I can appreciate the stars. It is quite soothing for me to stare at something beautiful which I know next to nothing about. And as I enjoy your company considerably more than any one else, I concluded my levels of appreciation would be higher with you and in a more relaxed environment than chasing an assassin around London. Besides, the city is terrible for astronomy with all the light pollution."

John couldn't help but smile. "And the candles?"

"Ah." If John didn't know better, he'd say that Sherlock sounded almost embarrassed. "I've heard that they are frequently used to create romantic settings as candle light is supposedly most flattering." Sherlock's previously darting eyes meet his. "It is quite true in your case, John."

John grasped the front of Sherlock's jacket and pulled him close till their lips met. John kissed him soundly to show his gratitude at the gesture. When he broke the kiss, he whispered, "Thank you," as well, just in case. Sherlock Holmes may be the worlds only consulting detective but he was almost useless when it came to deducing people's feelings.

"You're welcome," he mumbled fondly, gesturing at the blanket. John couched down and laid on his back, one hand resting on his stomach as his eyes tried to take in the huge scale of the diamond sky. Sherlock joined him a few seconds later, shoulders touching and his long pale fingers intertwining with John's. "Your knowledge of the stars is far greater than mine, name some for me."

John chuckled. "I really don't know _that_ much."

"Then tell me what you do know," Sherlock insisted stubbornly. John sighed and tried to rack his brains the remember the basic astronomy everyone knows. His eyes scanned the sky to find the brightest star as a starting point.

"Alright, see that star there? The really, really bright one?" John pointed it out and received a hum of acknowledgment from Sherlock. "That's the north star."

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

Sherlock turned his head to face John with a frown. It was quite endearing to see the great detective confused about something. "Why is it called the north star?"

"Well, I don't know!"

"John, how am I supposed to expand my knowledge of the solar system if you don't know the simplest facts?" Sherlock exclaimed exasperatedly.

"I'm not you! I don't know everything there is to know about a subject!"

"You should. This is when having a brain like mine comes in useful," Sherlock grumbled then noticed John was breathing slowly and heavily through his nose. "You breathe like that when you're trying to keep control which means now you're either close to climax or you're annoyed. Judging by the situation I'm going to say the latter is more likely, unless there's something you're not telling me." He concluded, glancing down with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you want me to continue or not?" John said through gritted teeth.

"Annoyance it is!" Sherlock announced triumphantly before receiving a deadly glare from John. "And that means you want me to shut up now. I'm sorry, do continue."

"Right," John bit out but found his irritation disappearing as Sherlock nestled his head against his shoulder. "Just down from the north star, do you see the four stars in a square shape?" When Sherlock said that he did, John explained, "That's the Big Dipper, or the Ursa Major. No, I don't know why it's called that, why don't you Google it when we get home?" John could practically feel Sherlock's amused smile through their layers of clothes.

"Rest assured, John, I will. Carry on."

"The line of stars that sort of curves around and then stops in a misshaped triangle of stars, kind of looks like a snake, is called Draco."

"Latin for dragon," Sherlock murmured instantly.

John rolled his eyes. "Trust _you _to know that."

"Of course. Anything else?"

"No, that's everything," John conceded and Sherlock hummed in response before falling silent, probably to delete everything he'd just been told. When Sherlock hadn't spoken for a good few minutes, John assumed he'd fallen asleep. As the detective slept so little, John let him be, revelling in the moment of peace away from the crazy life he'd had since moving into Baker Street.

Then something bright and quick flashed across the sky. John smiled. "Sherlock," he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Look up."

"Where else am I going to look?" He replied cheekily.

"So you saw the shooting star then?"

"Oh, is that what it was?" Sherlock asked excitedly, delighted with this new piece of information. "I thought it was a comet burning up as it flew through the atmosphere."

John sighed wearily. "Well, that's the less romantic way of putting it, I suppose."

"Why is it romantic?"

"It's not really, I guess. You're just meant to make a wish when you see one."

"How is wishing on a falling piece of rock going to improve your fortunes?"

"You are hopeless," John complained, banging his head against the ground in frustration.

"Besides," Sherlock continued, ignoring the comment as he wrapped an arm around John's waist. He snuggled closer and closed his eyes. "It would be completely unnecessary for me to make a wish right now, if I believed such things worked. I have you and that's all I want."

John's heart swelled. Those words coming from anyone else's lips would have sounded cheesy, but from Sherlock, it just sounded like he was stating a fact.

Sherlock opened one eye and added dryly, "But don't think I wouldn't kill you for a cigarette right this instant."

John merely laughed and pulled the detective closer into him and they lay under the stars until the sun began to rise and the candles burnt out.


End file.
